In my first year of high school, I was so insolent that comparing my current self to who I was then would be an exercise in futility. My relationship with my father was at its absolute worst, and we spent every single night screaming at one another. Looking back at my life, I think that was the period when my personality was at its most rotten.
For instance, if I happened to make eye contact with someone I didn't like, I’d click my tongue in their face. If a teacher tried to perform a surprise bag inspection, I would grumble and complain incessantly, never giving a second thought to the consequences.
I think that because I doubled down on that attitude from the very start of high school, I eventually reached a point where I couldn’t back down. That’s probably why I ended up being called "The Queen" for so long.
However, even a "Queen" is still just a first-year high school girl. It’s a sensitive, volatile age.
Back then, I was in love with a boy. He was a senior one year above me: Sekine-senpai.
...Well, calling it "love" feels a bit off now that I'm reflecting on it. The feelings I held for Sekine-senpai back then weren't quite the same as real love.
He was the star of the tennis club, a boy with genuine talent, a list of accomplishments, and a handsome, somewhat androgynous face. I think the emotion I felt for him was closer to idolization than anything else.
But back then, I had no way of distinguishing between love and admiration.
I lived for the day I would finally tell Sekine-senpai how I felt.
The day of my first-year school festival was blessed with a cloudless blue sky.
Despite it being the onset of autumn, it was a sweltering day. If I recall correctly, that was the reason Class 3-2, who were selling shaved ice, won the award for the highest sales.
I passed a group of girls walking together in the hallway.
They were talking about how, with the weather so clear, the Post-Festival Party would surely go ahead as scheduled.
The Post-Festival Party.
The campfire.
It was an event held while everyone was still riding the high of the festival’s end. In that atmosphere, the hearts of the students who stayed late often became dyed in the vibrant colors of youth.
The pinnacle of that "youthful" experience was confessing your feelings to the person you liked in front of the campfire.
One of the girls I passed was being cheered on by her friends. It was painfully obvious that she intended to make her confession at that very campfire.
In that moment, a thought struck me.
The campfire. The festive atmosphere.
Maybe I could confess to Sekine-senpai there, too.
In those days, I occupied the position of "The Queen," and even a simple confession required meticulous planning. A Queen requires a certain level of dignity to keep everyone else in line.
I had a premonition that if anyone saw me get rejected by a guy, I would lose my standing instantly. I wouldn't be able to remain a Tyrant anymore.
But if I could ride the wave of the festive atmosphere during the Post-Festival Party...
He might be more inclined to say yes.
And even if he did reject me, I could maintain a modicum of pride by playing it off as just another part of the festival's excitement.
It was the perfect "two birds, one stone" opportunity.
And so, I resolved to confess to Sekine-senpai during the first-year Post-Festival Party.
In the end, however, I never got to carry out that plan.
I wasn't the only one who missed her chance.
...The girl I had seen being encouraged by her friends in the hallway was also robbed of her timing.
The cancellation of the Post-Festival Party was broadcast over the school announcement system just as the closing ceremony ended and everyone was starting to drift toward the schoolyard.
It wasn't because of a sudden storm.
There hadn't been a single sign of trouble.
The cancellation was simply made official, without warning.
Naturally, a storm of criticism erupted from the students, all of it directed at the School Festival Executive Committee.
I was no exception. I intended to vent my fury at the incompetent fools on the committee.
"Hey, Yamamoto!"
The next day, I cornered Yamamoto, who had been serving as our class's representative on the School Festival Executive Committee.
There was actually another girl in our class who had been on the committee as well, but since she was a friend of mine, I had no intention of blaming her.
Back then, I think I just wanted to catch a boy who wasn't part of my circle and subject him to a public trial.
"The Post-Festival Party yesterday! Why was it canceled!?"
That was my mindset at the time.
If this man...
If Yamamoto...
Didn't give me a satisfactory explanation, I wouldn't let him off the hook.
Yamamoto met my expectations.
It wasn't that he failed to explain; rather, he gave me the answer with such stark, easy-to-understand clarity.
"Ah, I forgot to order the wood for the campfire. My bad."
Yamamoto said it so casually and bluntly that, for a moment, my anger was actually stunted by his sheer lack of resistance.
But after a few seconds, as I processed his words, a fresh wave of rage began to simmer within me.
Looking back, that confrontation happened during a break. I berated him in the classroom while all our other classmates were watching. I’ve only just realized now that my outburst was likely the catalyst for why everyone else started to dislike him.
"How could you make such a basic mistake?"
"I have no excuse. I'm sorry."
"An apology doesn't fix this!"
"...You're right. I'm sorry."
It wasn't something that could be settled with an apology.
And yet, Yamamoto just kept apologizing.
At the time, I absolutely loathed that attitude of his.
But now, I find myself wondering.
What could Yamamoto have done back then that would have actually made me forgive him?
...The truth is, I probably wouldn't have forgiven him no matter what he did.
And I think he knew that.
That’s why he probably kept those apologies coming—not to fix the mistake, but simply to act as a lightning rod for my anger and the frustration of our classmates.